


Safe With You

by CrystalQueer



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/F, Minor Injuries, injury care, there isn't much to tag lmao, villaneve is only there if u squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24053086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalQueer/pseuds/CrystalQueer
Summary: Villanelle gets injured while working in London.Unable to go to a hospital, she turns to Eve for help instead.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 1
Kudos: 108





	Safe With You

Eve had expected to be home alone all evening while Niko was out with some of his friends; so she was dressed comfortably, hair loose, baggy clothes, curled up on the couch with a bag of chips, watching a marathon of some old movies.

It was good to be able to relax with how _chaotic_ things had been recently in her life. No assassins to chase (or run from), no leads to track down- just herself, some chips, and old movies.

It was good, right up until someone knocked on the door.

She was tempted to tell them to go away, a half-hearted yell to break the peace of the flat. Who the _hell_ would come around this late, anyway? Maybe it was Carolyn, it wouldn’t be the first time she showed up out of the blue, but, even if it _was_ , did Eve _need_ to answer? Whatever Carolyn had to say could wait until tomorrow, couldn’t it?

Unfortunately, Eve valued her job too much to find out.

So she put aside her chips, kicked off her blanket, and went to answer the door, already speaking as she turned the handle.

“Carolyn, it’s so l-” Eve stopped abruptly, eyes widening as dread bloomed in her stomach. “Oh.”

Villanelle stood in front of the door; arms limp at her sides and eyes looking empty. “I need help,” She said plainly.  
  
It took Eve a moment longer to realize it but it really appeared that she did; she was rather bloody (something Eve found she was unfortunately desensitized to), and her face was a mess of cuts and bruises- including the beginnings of what looked like a nasty black eye.

“I- what? Why would you come to me? Shouldn’t you go to a hospital or something?” Eve fought the urge to take a step back, to retrieve the knife she kept carefully tucked in her waistband. She didn’t want to scare Villanelle off.

Villanelle only reacted by listing her head to the side, eyes still blank. “Will you help or not.” She asked flatly, already pivoting on her heel as if to leave.

“Wait-” Eve made a split second decision and reached out, hand faltering in the air as she attempted to stop Villanelle. “Fine, I’ll help, come in here.”

She stepped aside, Villanelle turned back and came inside with her head lowered, like a dog that had been caught trying to run away. Eve silently closed the door behind her, and she stopped in the entryway. Waiting.

“Oh- right.” Eve’s mind was going a mile a minute as questions came forth only to be replaced by more; what was Villanelle doing _here_ ? Why couldn’t she go to a hospital? Had she recently killed someone? Was it someone Eve _knew_ ? Would Villanelle even answer any of her questions?

Eve had to settle down, she needed to first figure out exactly what Villanelle needed help with, if it wasn’t her mess of a face. So she took a few deep breaths and a step away from the assassin, and spoke again.

“Okay,” she said. “What exactly do you need help _with_ ? It’s- it’s not disposing of a body, is it?”

The poor attempt at a joke was punctuated by a weak laugh to ease her anxiety, though with Villanelle, that might have just been the case. Villanelle, however, did not look amused.

She spread her hands in front of herself as if she were showing they were empty yet Eve still flinched back. If Villanelle noticed, she ignored it. “Do I look like I have brought a body with me?” She asked. “I need medical supplies. I was.. Stabbed.”

“I- you- what?”

“I was _stabbed_ ,” Villanelle enunciated her words as if Eve was stupid, eyes a little less blank and a little more annoyed, though she lacked any urgency. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

Eve doubted a first aid kit would be particularly helpful for a _stab wound_ . “Uh, right- yeah, follow me-” She turned and started to lead Villanelle upstairs, but stopped abruptly and turned back. “How did you get _stabbed_?”

Villanelle frowned, kind of scrunching up her face, and tipped her head to the side. “Do you _really_ want the answer to that?”

“No, I-I guess not.” Eve said, and she turned away again and finally lead Villanelle upstairs, the destination in mind being her bathroom where the first aid kit was kept. She could only hope this wasn’t a setup, and that Villanelle wouldn’t literally stab her in the back.

They made the journey without incident, in complete silence: silence that did nothing to soothe Eve’s nerves. Once, Villanelle stumbled, but she said nothing, just kept walking. Eve supposed she was used to ignoring her pain.

That was kind of sad.

In the bathroom, Eve gestured for Villanelle to sit on the toilet, and she did. Neither spoke, tension was thick in the air and Eve _still_ feared she might get jumped at any moment; her movements as she bent to get the first aid kit from under the sink were stiff and slow. Any sudden movement and Villanelle might assume she was being attacked and lash out, and she definitely did not need to learn what weapons the assassin kept on herself.

It was like dealing with a feral animal, trying to approach it without getting bitten.

She set the first aid kit on the counter, opened it, and began to rifle through though she didn’t know what she was looking for- the cuts on Villanelle’s face could be treated with first aid kit things, sure, but a stab wound?

Eve stopped and turned around, mouth already open to say something but the sight of Villanelle made her pause- she had taken off her shirt.

“Is that- is that really necessary?” Eve asked.

Villanelle scrunched her face like she was thinking. “How else are you going to clean it.” She said, and she sat up to gesture at the wound like _see?  
_

Eve looked away.

“Right- well, I’m, I’m going to go get some washcloths so you can,” she gestured at Villanelle’s face. “clean yourself up.” She left before Villanelle could reply, and flattened herself against the wall outside the door as soon as she was out of sight.

She pressed a hand to her chest and stared at the ceiling to try and gather her scattered thoughts. This was a terrible idea. She couldn’t align herself with the _murderous assassin_ , she couldn’t treat her wounds- why had Villanelle even come to her? 

This was weird. And terrible. She hated it.

But she didn't want to leave Villanelle alone for too long. Didn’t want her to do anything drastic, or think Eve was calling the police, so she got herself together as best as she _could_ and went to the linen closet to fetch some washcloths; soon returning to Villanelle, who hadn’t moved and was just... sitting there, picking at her nails, though she did sit up when Eve came back.

Eve wetted a washcloth under the sink and held it out to Villanelle, who took it after a moment of perplexment.

“What am I meant to do with this?” She asked.

“Clean yourself up.” Eve gestured again at her face.

Villanelle made a face at her and began to swipe at her face, movements lackluster like she didn’t really care about cleaning her face, couldn’t see where to clean, or was just trying to make Eve frustrated enough to take over and do it for her.

Unfortunately, if it were the last option, it worked.

“Ugh- give me that.” Eve stepped forward and took the washcloth from Villanelle who let her, just, leaving it stuck to her face so that Eve could take it easily. She had definitely been baited. And she had given in.

It didn’t matter. Eve began to gingerly dab at a large cut on Villanelle’s forehead, wondering how she had gotten so badly beaten up. Was she not a professional? Maybe her victim had managed to fight back, and she hadn’t expected it. Or maybe she had gotten attacked. It wouldn't be surprising if The Twelve had more assassins Eve wasn't aware of, but why would they want to kill Villanelle? She was, as horrible as the thought was, _very_ good at her job, if the trail of corpses that followed her were any indication. So why try to get rid of her?

Eve stepped back and turned around to rinse blood and sweat off the wash cloth before she turned back to Villanelle, who said nothing, but continued to stare at her with those dark, endless eyes.

Tentative still, Eve used her free hand to tilt Villanelle’s head up and to the side so that she might better clean her cheek. Now she was extra careful, mindful of the bruising under the cuts.

Neither spoke. The bathroom was haunted by the sounds of their breathing (Eve’s quick and nervous, Villanelle’s controlled and even), and the _drip drip drip_ of the sink Niko never quite got around to fixing.

And the sound of the TV on downstairs.

She dabbed at a cut near Villanelle’s jawline, and pulled the cloth away to look, to make sure she had gotten all of the blood off. The cut on her forehead was bleeding a little bit from being disturbed, but otherwise she was fine. Patching her up would be a bit of work but at least it would be manageable.

“When you are done staring, I still have a stab wound that needs to be looked at.” Villanelle said, and Eve realized that she had, in fact, been staring. Hastily she pulled her hands away and mumbled an apology as she turned to drop the washcloth in the sink to be dealt with later.

She wetted another cloth and stepped forward to kneel next to Villanelle to better look at her stab wound. She was no doctor, but it didn’t seem to look too bad? Blood had dried on the skin around it, and the wound still wept, but she figured it just needed to be cleaned and patched up, right? It didn’t look serious enough to require stitches.

Eve racked her brain to try and remember anything she might have seen in movies, because sure, those weren’t the most _medically accurate_ portrayals of injuries, but that was all she really had to go off of. Didn’t fabric have to be removed from bullet wounds? Did that apply to stab wounds as well? Should she check? She didn’t want Villanelle to go septic, but she also didn’t want to cause her any undue pain by fishing for something that wasn’t there.

It was better safe than sorry though, right?

“I- uh, think I need to check and make sure there’s no fabric from your shirt in the wound, so it doesn’t get infected?”

“You don’t sound very sure about that.”

“I’m not! But you came to me for help, so you’re just going to have to go with it.” Eve snapped, and she felt like that was a bad decision, but she was too stressed to argue. “Just give me a moment to wash my hands. And the tweezers.”

Villanelle just shrugged, so Eve took that as her permission to do as she will, and left the washcloth on Villanelle’s leg to stand up and go clean her hands. And the tweezers. And she was going to need better light, so first she fished around in her pockets for her phone, turned the flashlight on, and offered it to Villanelle.

“Hold that. Uh, aim it at the wound.”

“Why?"

“Because I’ll need light? Can you shut up and cooperate for once?”

Villanelle made a face and shrugged an exaggerated shrug, though Eve didn’t miss how she winced at the motion. “Well, I can _try_.”

Still, she folded her arm up and out of the way, and aimed the flashlight at the wound. Eve rolled her eyes and turned around again to wash her hands, and the tweezers, and should they be better disinfected? Did she need gloves?

It would be fine. It had to be.

Eve took a deep breath and stared down at the sink, once again considering her options, considering _all_ of her actions that led to this- her playing nurse to an assassin whose death would probably leave the world a better place. But Eve couldn’t bring herself to let her die, or at least _risk_ dying, so here they were.

She turned around, approached, knelt, hands shaking. Her hands should have been steady Villanelle would have to accept the help she was given.

Under the harsh white light of her phone’s flashlight the blood glistened. Eve reached first for the still wet washcloth on Villanelle’s lap to wipe away the blood so she could see better, then back it went to her makeshift medical table on the assassin’s lap. It was Villanelle’s problem if blood and water stained her pants, though Eve almost doubted she would really care.

Gingerly, she placed her left hand over the wound and tried to gently pull it open, the sight of it made her nauseous and she hated all of this- the blood, that she would have to fish around in it- it was gross. She made a face but still stared into the wound to look for anything amiss; though she wasn’t quite sure exactly what she was looking for.

“Don’t worry about hurting me,” Villanelle said after a moment. “I like it rough.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes _ma’am_ .”

“Oksana, really, _shut up_.”

Villanelle shut up. But she wasn’t being annoying, because as Eve zeroed in on what was either _cloth_ or _loose flesh_ she felt a hand in her hair. The touch made her go tense, breath catching in her throat.

“Can you- can you not do that? Please? I really need to focus.” 

Slowly, Villanelle withdrew her hand, and snickered around what sounded like an apology without any remorse behind it.

Eve spread the stab wound a little wider, noting Villanelle’s flinch with a little satisfaction- but mostly guilt. She must have gotten the message, though, because after that Villanelle went quiet and still (something she was _eerily_ good at, and Eve didn’t want to consider how she honed such a skill), and Eve was able to focus on pulling what was definitely fabric out of the wound, a task made difficult by her shaking hands.

Really, it felt like playing that board game, _Operation_.

She was successful, though, and withdrew the bloody shred of fabric, bringing along with it fresh blood. It went into the trashcan next to the toilet, and after making sure it had no _companions_ in the wound, Eve again pressed the washcloth against it to staunch the new flow of blood.

“Hold that.” She ordered Villanelle, and Villanelle complied without saying anything sassy, for once.

It was easier to breathe now, as she stood up and washed her hands and the tweezers again, putting the latter back into the first aid kit in exchange for some bandages of varying sizes and some Neosporin. Would Neosporin _work_ for a stab wound? It was the best she could do, and, as she had told Villanelle, she would just have to go with it.

Eve turned around again, armed now with bandages of all kinds, and antibiotic cream, and realized she turned around a lot. Should she have put Villanelle somewhere to the side so she would have been easier to attend to, and so she wouldn’t have to turn her back to the assassin as often? It was too late to move her now, but she realized that was the lack of forethought that could get someone killed.

Next time she would have to be more careful.

But there wouldn’t be a next time; Villanelle couldn’t drop in whenever she was injured and in the area, and Eve couldn’t just care for her if she did.

Because she was an assassin. She could kill Eve whenever she wanted and no one would know what happened- so why didn’t she?

Why did she come to Eve in a vulnerable state for _help_?

Villanelle was a complete mystery, and Eve was _intent_ on learning all of her secrets.

For now, though, she would have to settle for playing nurse.

“Here, hold this.” Eve said, realizing now she needed somewhere to put the bandages while she put Neosporin on the cuts.

“You’re bossy.” Villanelle commented, looking up at her with a sly kind of smile. “I like that.”

Eve ignored whatever Villanelle might have been suggesting and set the handful of bandages in her offered hand, doing her absolute best to avoid touching Villanelle’s hand; she _stared_ for only a brief moment as the assassin curled her slender fingers ‘round the bandages, and that should _not_ have been as enticing as it was.

She was just tired, and stressed, and attracted to Villanelle. But, God, she couldn’t be, so she cleared her throat, uncapped the Neosporin, and got to work. One hand again under Villanelle’s chin to tilt her head up and hold it steady, while she applied the antibiotic cream with her other hand, each touch light and gentle. She appreciated how still Villanelle sat, even if she found her lack of reactions _odd_.

After wiping her fingers clean with a tissue and tossing it to the side, Eve reached for a bandaid from Villanelle’s hand (still careful to avoid touching her), went through the motions of unwrapping it, and gently applied it to the cut on Villanelle’s forehead; repeating the process with the cuts on her cheek.

“There.” Eve said, stepping back to admire her work- and only her work. Definitely not Villanelle’s face. “How’s that?”

Villanelle reached up to touch the bandaids crossing her cheek. “Fine.”

“Great. I just need to patch up your stab wound, and then you can be on your way.”

“Aww, are you so eager to get rid of me?” Villanelle asked, pouting.

“Yes.”

Villanelle continued to pout, and Eve avoided her gaze as she went to kneel at her side; she pushed Villanelle’s hand and the washcloth away from the wound, and it seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding, which meant she could tape some gauze over it, send Villanelle on her way, and get back to her night of _doing nothing_.

Of course, she’d need a lie to tell Niko about why there were bloody washcloths in the bathroom sink, but she could come up with something. That was just something she would have to worry about later.

She took a couple of packets of gauze from Villanelle’s hand (and made a mental note to stock up on more next time she went shopping), and one by one tore open the packets to press the gauze against Villanelle’s wound; enlisting the assassin’s help to tear off chunks of medical tape to secure said gauze.

“This will match the scar you gave me, you know.” Villanelle said, having thankfully (and wisely) waited to speak until after Eve finished taping down the gauze, even going so far as to use her now free hand to tilt Eve’s head up by her chin in a flustering role reversal. “But I like the one you gave me a _lot_ more.”

Eve pulled her head away and prayed Villanelle couldn’t see her flush. “That’s- that’s nice, I think.”

She gathered wrappers of bandaids and gauze off the ground and quickly stood, crumpling them in her hand and backing away from Villanelle- except she still had things Eve needed to collect. Avoiding Villanelle’s all too confident gaze, she took back the Neosporin and the bloody washcloth (which joined the other in the sink) and turned her back to Villanelle to hastily repack the first aid kit; already talking.

“Well, with that all taken care of- you should really go now.” She was tense, back to Villanelle, ordering her around seemed like a poor idea but she _really_ just wanted to get back to her night of relaxing.

“Can I have some water?” Villanelle asked.

“What? No. You need to leave.”

“You’ll patch my wounds, but leave me to die of thirst? Ugh, you’re a terrible hostess.”

“You- you’ve been here long enough, you need to leave.” Eve didn’t have much else to sort in the first aid kit, but she felt like Villanelle would _know_ if she tried to fuss with it to appear busy, so she bit the bullet and turned back around, leaning against the counter with her unclean hands braced against it as she stared at Villanelle, at her face, at her _eyes_ -

“And you, you can’t come back. Not like this. We aren’t friends, we aren’t,” She paused, raised a hand to wave it in a vague sort of gesture to indicate _them_ , whatever they _were_. “You can’t expect me to help you again, or- or take advantage of my kindness or _anything_ \- I swear the next time I see you I’ll make sure you get _arrested_ -”

Villanelle cocked her head, narrowed her eyes slightly. “All I _do_ is take advantage of people.” She interrupted. “Are you done yet? Can I have some water?”  
  
“No. Leave- please.”

“Ugh.” Villanelle stood, movements slow and aching. “Fine! I’ll _go_ miss _bossy-pants_.” She lowered her voice and bobbed her head in a mocking way. Eve scowled, Villanelle smiled.

“You remind me of a friend with all your _talking._ ” She continued, raising her hand to do the universal gesture for _talking_ with her fingers. “But you are _so_ much prettier than him, so it’s okay.”

“Uh. Thank you?” Eve furrowed her eyebrows, trying to decide if that was a good thing or not.

“Whatever. I will go!” Villanelle turned to leave.

“Wait!” Eve bent and picked Villanelle’s discarded shirt up off the ground, offering it to her after she stood. “Don’t forget this.”

“Keep it.” Villanelle paused, looking thoughtful for a fleeting moment. “Actually, burn it.”

“What? No. Take it.”

“Fine!” Villanelle took the shirt, and lead the way out of the bathroom with it balled up in a fist.

Eve followed along behind her quietly, her mind still raced but she felt… vaguely relaxed. Like she _knew_ that Villanelle wouldn’t kill her, not this time. She stared at the assassin's bare back as they walked, trying to decide what her end game was, why she was here, none of it made sense- but Villanelle didn’t seem like she was in any shape to attack. Nor did it seem she _wanted_ to attack. She was just here for help- but _why_?

They reached the door. Villanelle opened it, like she was going to leave, which Eve wanted, but-

“Wait:”

Villanelle stopped.

“Are they... Dead?” Eve asked.

“The person who did this to me?” Villanelle asked, turning around to face her, smiling. “Yes. _Very_ dead. I made sure of it.”

“Oh.” Eve said, but she wasn’t sure why she was surprised. “Who did you kill?”

“You’ll find out in," Villanelle idly waved a hand. “A couple days. Probably.”

She did not elaborate. Eve did not ask her to. She tried to come up with a way to tell MI6 to keep an eye out for a body, but how could she warn them without having to explain how she _knew_ someone would turn up dead?

It was yet _another_ thing to work out later, after Villanelle left.  
  
They stared at each other for a few moments, Eve unsure of what else to say. She had always been under the impression that Villanelle was the type of person to take her leave whenever she wanted, but she wasn't leaving now, when Eve wanted her to- was she after something else?  
  
Villanelle stepped forward in a sudden movement, arms extended, and Eve flinched away. This was it, Villanelle was going to kill her- but she didn’t, she just followed Eve back and wrapped her arms around her in a stiff hug.  
  
Eve froze with an expression akin to a deer in the headlights, her whole body stiff as she awkwardly raised her arms but didn't return the hug. What the _Hell_ was Villanelle doing? Wasn’t _that_ the million dollar question. Did she ask? She didn’t know what to do. So she stood there, stock-still, for the few seconds that lasted an _eternity_ and only breathed once Villanelle stepped away.  
  
“Thank you.” Villanelle said, and it was unclear if she meant for the hug, or for cleaning her up. “I will go now, as you _demanded_.”

“Thanks.” Eve replied, still _incredibly puzzled_. “You can’t come back.”  
  
“You have made that clear. But I don’t know; I might.” Villanelle shrugged. “I’m not very good at following orders- perhaps you will have to _make_ me listen.”  
  
Not for the first time that night, Eve ignored what Villanelle might have been implying. “Go.”  
  
“All right, all right!” Villanelle rolled her eyes and turned, giving an airy wave as she walked out the door. “ _Ciao_ ! I’m sure we’ll see each other again _real_ soon.”  
  
And like that, the assassin disappeared into the night.  
  
Eve closed the door behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not here to be medically accurate, I'm here to write gay tension. 
> 
> UH, this doesn't take place at any particular time during the show or anything; I've been watching KE very slowly, and badly wanted to clean Villanelle's face up by the end of season one, and, while I can't do that, I Sure Can Write Eve Doing It! So Here We Are.
> 
> I'd like to give a big thank you to my two friends who proofread this for me; their suggestions made this all the better, and I'm super grateful they took the time to read it over.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave a comment & kudos!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
